The Burglar of Middle-Earth
by Unquestionably Unhinged
Summary: When one is a burglar planning to raid the largest hoard in the surrounding vicinity, one never suspects that they will be the ones appropriated. Now finding herself apart of the very hoard she was planning to plunder, Circe must find a way to escape the labyrinth of the Lonely Mountain or stay trapped within it's walls; forever the prize of the arrogant, egotistical dragon within.
1. Beginnings in Laketown

**After seeing the movie (twice) and reading the book, I have decided that Smaug is my favorite Tolkien character. Keep the mountain, that's what I say! Anywho, after reading some amazing stories with Smaug, I thought I might offer my own. So here we go, first chapter of a new story. Hope you all enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: The almighty Tolkien owns and rules all! Except Circe, she's mine. **

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In the times of Elves, Hobbits, Dwarves and wizards, man was not deemed in good stead. Rather, man was considered greedy and cruel, ruled by their emotions unlike the fair Elves, clumsy and prideful, nothing like Hobbits, lacking a sense of honour that was felt among Dwarves and in great need of the wisdom and foresight that was established in wizards.

Man was a medley of horrible ideas and strange behaviors, war mongering and self-seeking; it was a wonder that they did not wipe each other out all at once. Though, every now and again, a man would rise up who, through great sacrifice and courage, would best fate and overcome their heritage, flourishing in the world of magic and myst.

Circe was not one of these.

...

Wind whipped wildly at the cloaks of the people of Lake Town. The waters flogged the docks and citizens ran to the cover of their houses to escape the growing storm. The skies above were black and red, clouds twisting and churning, gathering in clumps of grey. And then the rain began.

One lone boat glided as best it could over the rough waters, its occupant stood unmoving, guiding the wooden vessel towards the pier. Amber eyes peered out from under a dark green hood leading down into a long cloak. A dull red cloth was tied around the strangers face, covering the nose and mouth.

Lightning cracked over head and the stranger's eyes snapped up to the roiling sky. Thick brows furrowed in determination as the stranger continued towards Lake Town. The boat maneuvered through waterways until it came to a small port with a little hut on the dock.

"Papers please," a man announced coming outside of the little hut towards the boat.

"You would demand papers from a consort of the King of the Woodland realm?" the stranger snapped with a raised brow.

It took the man a moment to comprehend what the stranger meant but when he did, his eyes went wide and he sputtered out an apology.

"Think not of it, lake man," the stranger declared with a voice gentler than before, "Though I must be allowed to pass, my king has commanded me."

"Of course, of course my lord," the man waved the stranger on, bowing slightly, "I apologize for the delay."

"You are pardoned." the regal stranger affirmed, continuing on further into the town. The boat creaked through the churning waters and finally, the prow bumped unceremoniously against the dock.

Hopping out of the boat, the stranger proceeded to tie it off to a nearby post. A light chuckle escaped the stranger's lips as the amber eyes shot back towards the hut on the dock.

"Tell me, lake man," the newcomer called, "where might I find lodging on this foul night?"

"Well my lord, there is an inn not far down, The Hissing Tankard it's called, they would put you up, if, of course, you're not too picky about the company."

The stranger laughed heartily and tossed the man a small bag of coins.

"I thank you, lake man."

The rain pounded down as the traveler marched down the docks towards what looked to be the well lit inn called The Hissing Tankard. And so it was. The stranger stopped outside the door, furrowing those thick brows once again and making those amber eyes slits of anger and hatred.

At last, with a rough push, the wanderer threw open the door to the inn and strode grandly inside. All eyes turned towards the stranger, and the strangers eyes turned towards all. Many eyes traveled down, landing on the silver clasp that held the olive cloak. All knew this to be the sigil of the woodland elves and no one questioned it.

Once each person had gone back to their drinking or meals, the stranger's eyes snapped to the innkeeper who bristled slightly at the sight of the piercing eyes.

"Are you the keeper of this establishment?" the stranger queried with a crisp, sharp voice.

"Uh-erm eh ah, yes. Yes, I am the innkeeper. What can I do for you?"

"I require room and board for the night." the stranger drawled, lazily knocking slender fingers against the wood of the counter.

"Right, well we do have one room left tonight, lucky eh?" the innkeeper chuckled awkwardly but stopped at the look on the stranger's face. He coughed.

"Alright, Ilsa will show you the way up. ILSA!"

At that moment, a short young woman came barreling down the old rickety staircase behind the counter. She stopped when she spotted the stranger on the other side.

"Ilsa, please show this man to his room."

Ilsa fixed the stranger with a flirtatious smile and what we suppose was her best set of bedroom eyes. The stranger glared viciously at the girl but that only seemed to spur her on, and with one look at the broach on the olive cloak, she was infatuated.

"Please my lord, follow me."

Striding past the innkeeper, who let out the long breath he had been holding, the stranger followed the woman up the stairs into a badly lit corridor with doors lining it on both sides.

"Right this way." she coaxed, heading down the hall with her hips swaying purposefully.

The stranger sneered beneath the cloth that covered the nose and mouth, but followed her, wanting to be in the quiet and comfort of the room. Finally, they reached an old oak door which Ilsa, rather seductively, slid a key into before letting it creak open.

"Your room, m'lord."

The stranger pushed past the woman and stepped into the room.

"I will have supper brought to me." the crisp voice commanded, facing away from the doors with hands clasped together.

"Of course, m'lord." Ilsa giggled flirtatiously, slowly backing out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar before she was gone.

The stranger whirled swiftly, nearly racing across the room to slam the door shut. Once that was done, the weary wonderer let out a relieved sigh.

"I always knew these river folk were stupid, but I never expected this."

The stranger proceeded to remove the green hood and rip off the red kerchief, revealing not a male elf from the woodland realm, but a young human woman most likely from the North. Leaving the door, she noticed a mirror on the wall near the window which she walked over to.

Looking at her reflection in the mirror, the woman smirked, narrowing her eyes and speaking in her much practiced male voice.

"Oh Circe, you've done it again." she grinned as she retied the red cloth around her face, "Why, I could fool the King of Gondor if I had to."

A knock at the door startled her out of her praise and she flipped on her hood, leaning mysteriously by the window for effect.

"Enter." her voice rang out and Ilsa slowly but boisterously entered the room carrying a tray of food with her.

"You may leave it on the desk." Circe announced. She tried to be as icy as possible so as to deter the promiscuous woman, but it seemed to do the very opposite.

Circe heard the clank of the metal tray on the wooden desk and thought that to be the end of it. However, without looking up, she heard loud, boasting footsteps slowly making their way over to where she stood.

"We don't get much of your kind here, m'lord. I'd always thought elves kept rather to themselves."

"And so I wish to, if you would please."

"Oh, don't send me out m'lord." Ilsa purred, letting one hand stroke the cloak clad arm. Circe's brows shot up then furrowed, unsure of how far this woman was bent on taking it.

"No, you just need to come and relax." Circe felt two arms snaking their way towards her shoulders and she prepared herself for what she had to do, breathing in deeply.

"That's it," Ilsa said, taking Circe's deep breathing for preparation of a different kind. The maid slipped her hand up the back of Circe's neck, gripping the fabric of the cloak, ready to rip away the hood _and the storm was unleashed._

"STEP AWAY, PROMISCUOUS WENCH!" Circe exploded, spinning on her heel to loom over the young maid, "KNOW YOUR PLACE WHEN YOU ARE IN THE PRESENCE OF A CONSORT TO THE KING!"

Circe, who was already rather tall, had no problems hovering menacingly over the short girl. The shadow her hood cast gave her an air of malice and the ever cracking lightning outside filled the room with intervals of frightening light.

"I WILL NOT HAVE YOU SEEKING TO DEFILE MY HONOR!"

"I-I wasn't trying-" the woman stepped away, her eyes wide and mouth slightly open in fear.

"YOU WILL DEPART FROM ME THIS MOMENT AND NOT RETURN!" Circe thundered, "Do not let me see you again." she finished with a foreboding hiss.

The maid let out a incomprehensible mutter before lifter up her skirt and fleeing from the room. Circe watched her fly through the door and she walked quickly, slamming the door shut so that it echoed through the entire pub. She then locked the door, removing her hood and running a hand through her long black hair.

_That hadn't gone according to plan at all_, she thought. She had been trying to avoid attention, but the maid would probably go crying to the innkeeper who would start to cause trouble.

"Ah, what does it matter?" Circe scoffed to herself. She moved off back towards the window, staring out over the small town. "I shan't be here long."

Her eyes roamed the far off mountains, settling on the silhouette of the ruined city of Dale. Finally, her eyes caught her destination. Erebor, the Lonely Mountain. Her stance became rigid and she stood straighter, glaring at the mist covered mountain.

"We'll see how terrible you are Smaug," she sneered, "and if you can protect your hoard from middle earth's finest thief."

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**I do hope you've all enjoyed this beginning chapter, introducing our master of disguise Circe. The next few chapters will explain more about who she is and what the heck is going on. Any story ideas or feedback is greatly appreciated.**

**Read + Review = Love from Me to You**

**~U-Hinged**


	2. A Great Lizard

**I know, I know, it's been awhile, but I had a really bad case of writers block. Which is why this chapter is more a filler/Bridge chapter leading into the more meaty bits. *Ahem* Don't worry, the next chapter will have much more Smaug.**

**I won nothing but Circe, all else belongs to the great Tolkien.**

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The sun was just coming up over the Misty Mountains and there was hardly a cloud in the sky. The waters surrounding Lake Town had calmed considerably compared to the night before and there was hardly any damage to the town itself.

Circe squinted against the rising light of the sun as she stood by her room window, quickly pulling on her clothes and boots, hoping to reach the mountain by the early afternoon. She had travelled too far in the previous weeks to be killed by doing something as stupid as entering a dragon's lair in the middle of the night.

Circe had been a part of a group of travelling performers for as long as she could remember. That was where she had picked up her considerable ability to disguise herself as well as her voice. The art of thievery she had learned on her own. Her troupe had been having a particularly rough time in a nearby city, trying to gather enough money to buy food.

Circe, being very young at the time, had noticed all the fine Lords and Ladies simply passing the company without even turning their gaze. She had also noticed that they had more than enough money to spare and wondered why they would not share it with those of them who had next to none.

And so, not knowing any better, Circe began to take from those rich few, not that they noticed or anything, but she took just enough to help the troupe and not too much that they would start asking questions. Eventually, stealing from the rich and giving to the poor became not enough for her.

The adrenaline that shot through her as she took from those unsuspecting few had become addicting and the rewards she earned from it were equally so. Thievery had started to become her profession, and so, she left her troupe as they entered the woodland realm, but not before nicking a few items she thought she would need.

Namely an elfish blade and the broach on her cloak. Thus, she began her travels around middle earth, hiring herself off to whichever king or criminal or Warlord wanted to start a war or simply wanted what someone else had.

Naturally, when she had heard of Erebor, the halls of the dwarves filled with an unmentionable amount of treasure, guarded by a bloody great _DRAGON_, well she just couldn't turn it down. What was the point of being the _"Burglar of Middle Earth"_ if you aren't going to take the risks.

Staring out her window with her eyes on the Lonely Mountain, her stomach clenched in anxiety. A dragon, she had never faced a dragon. Ogres and elves and dwarves she had face and much worse on top of that but never in her life had she face a dragon.

"Just a great lizard," she reminded herself, though it brought her little comfort.

….

The little town was bustling when Circe emerged from the Inn. She had swiftly ordered a small breakfast and after she had finished it, paid the innkeeper for her room, perhaps a tad more than the bill called for, seeing as she _had_ frightened the help. Now she started off to gather the supplies she needed for the trip.

She first visited the market; buy loaves of bread, some wine and meats from the butcher. She was just about to leave the butcher when she stopped, a thought coming into her head. Turning swiftly on her heel, she strode back up the man and stood taller.

"In addition, I would like to purchase your waste." Circe stated.

The man's eyes went about as wide as they could without popping out of his head.

"M-my what, sire!?"

"Your waste, man! The animal, the blood, the wasted parts! I need them."

"Ah, yes-yes of course. I had thought- but no." he shuffled off into the back of the shop, muttering to himself with his back hunched.

He came blundering back, holding two large buckets in his fists. Circe wrinkled her nose at the smell as the man placed them on the counter in front of her.

"Very good," her voice came out somewhat strangled and she set an extra few coins on the table which the man grabbed hastily.

Picking up the buckets and heaving them off the table, Circe pushed her way out the door and back onto the bustling docks towards her boat. The buckets were placed gently at the back, behind the meat she was going to use for eating and the bread and the wine. One look at the now filled boat and Circe was ready to shove off.

The lake was much calmer than it had been the night before and Circe had no trouble navigating her way through the docks and bridges of Lake Town, out into the wide expanse of water that was Long Lake. As she rowed, she received many strange glances from the locals, probably concerning the smell wafting from the boat itself. But it was necessary.

It is silent on the water; the only noise is the boat slicing through the crystal clear water as it lapped up the sides. Circe looked up, her amber eyes piercing the clouds as the Lonely Mountain came into sight. Her back straightened and her jaw tightened to stop the involuntary quiver it began to make.

Circe had never stolen from a dragon, but she had done her research before beginning this quest. She knew that dragons had a particularly strong sense of smell, quite like dogs, which was where the animal parts came in. She could think of no other way to mask her human sent, for if Smaug smelled her she would be dead within seconds, and there were so many other places she had left to pilfer.

…

The boat thumped against the shore leading up to the ruined city of Dale. The winds were cold and biting, leaving Circe shivering against the bitter air. Hopping out onto the firm ground, she gripped the rope that was still attached to her boat and began to pull the boat farther up so that it wouldn't be carried away by the water.

She left it there and continued up the path towards the ruins of Dale and the Lonely Mountain. The city, she now saw, was not just in ruins. It had been decimated, houses torn apart, churches wrought with scorch marks and it reeked of death and decay. Circe kept one hand on her sword at all times as she moved through the wreckage.

"By the Valar," she muttered to herself, "that must be some hoard to call such a beast."

Her hand traced a large claw mark on the wall of one of the towering building. The scratches were deep and gargantuan in comparison to Circe's hands. Her face sank into a frown and she gently patted the wall in a show of determination. She had come this far and no lizard was going to make her turn back now.

With a new sense of resolve, Circe headed back to the boat, dragging all the items she had bought from Lake Town up the bank and back through the town. It took quite a while, but finally Circe had created a small camp just on the outskirts of the city, near enough to the mountain entrance.

In her mind, Circe went over her plan again. She would start her fire, begin to cook the meat she had brought and make the camp look as though it was being inhabited. If she was correct, the dragon would smell the fire, the food and believe that someone was trespassing on their territory, which was true.

Hopefully the dragon would be enraged enough to come out of the mountain in search of the fool who dared enter his land, and Circe would have enough time to get in through the gate.

She eyed the buckets of waste wearily and with a sneer. That was where those came in. She would have to douse herself in that foul stuff to match the smell of the meat. If this beast smelled that in the mountain, it would simply think the smell had wafted in from outside.

"Right well, let's get this all over with."

She started the fire and put some of the meat onto the spit. As it began to roast, Circe gathered her sword and extra daggers, attaching them to her body. She took off the cloak and shoes, which were not truly meant for running and seeing as they would only slow her down, she finally took one of the buckets.

"What I go through," she griped.

Lifting it high over her head, the woman closed her eyes and tipped it upside down.

…

In the depths of the Lonely Mountain, beneath gold that towered as high as the ceiling and jewels that shone and twinkled, a growl emanated. Gold coins shifted and slid, revealing the crevices and hollows of what looked to be a mighty beast. And a mighty beast it was.

Smaug the Magnificent had awoken.

…

"Eugh," Circe sneered at the smell that now enveloped her body and the gunk that stuck to it. Her cloak lay unruined at her feet but the rest of her was absolutely coated in the insides of many individual animals.

As she cursed, she noticed a sound coming from behind her, inside the mountain. It was a sort of low moan, from what she could make out, and the air about her had started to become warmer and thicker.

"No," she breathed with her eyes wide and her mouth open slightly, "it's too soon."

The ground beneath her feet began to rumble slightly and she dropped the bucket with a clang. Her bare feet twirled in the dirt, spinning her to face the mountain. Without a second's hesitation, she took off towards it, her feet digging into the mud and grass.

The blood from the animals dripped into her eyes and she could barely see where she was going. Hot air blew past her, blinding her even more. She still managed to see the gate in front of her, even if it was terribly blurred.

Circe raced up the steps carelessly, the stone scratching her feet. A great roar erupted from inside and she stopped, mouth agape, as the sound grew closer. Without a moment's hesitation she flew up the remaining steps, and on the last one, she threw herself against the wall and scampered behind one of the great Dwarven statues.

Breathing heavily, Circe wiped at the blood now covering her face. Her hair was drenched in it and she pushed it back, listening for anymore sounds. But it had gone silent. Not just the beast within the mountain though, everything had gone silent. The wind had stopped, no animal made a noise, not even the trees creaked.

Circe held her breath, reaching for the hilt of her sword and gripping it tightly, but still she listened. All remained silent.

Until

An ear shattering roar pierced the sky and Circe fought the urge to scream. She covered her ears as roar after roar burst out from the mountain. And following the roar, the great flapping of wings. Circe shut her eyes, mouthing words to an old prayer she had learned as a child.

Huge clouds of dust were whisked up from the ground around her and she covered her face from the stinging dirt. The ground shook and another roar was released, only this time,

_it was right behind her._

Circe did not move from her hiding place behind the statue and the pounding wing beats and roars passed her. But she could not help herself from peeking out behind the stone statue. Her breath caught in her throat.

Flying overhead was the great red serpent. His wingspan was vast and his body colossal, his claws dug into the stone of the steps before he pushed off with them, gliding into the air like a bird. But this was no bird, Circe could see that. This was something she had never even imagined.

Adrenaline gripped her and as soon as the beast was far enough away, circling over her camp and the city of Dale, Circe pushed herself off the ground and slowly snuck around the side of the statue until she had a clear path towards the gate and inside the mountain.

She didn't have much time and her legs ached. Wiping her slicked hair back, her mouth set itself into a frown and her foot pushed itself off the ground, starting her way towards the gaping hole in the side of the mountain.

Another roar erupted not far away, but Circe did not look back. She continued to run until she had made it through and was creeping into the shadows. She knew that camp would not keep him forever and that he would be back inside in a matter of seconds.

She had to find that hoard.

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**Criticism is appreciated as are any story ideas. Hope you enjoyed.**

**~U-Hinged**


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